


The Vanity Of A Daffodil.

by your_normal_everyday_coffee



Category: Original Work
Genre: Beauty - Freeform, Field, Flowers, Gen, Meaning, Morals, Nature, Original Character(s), Philosophy, Roses, Vanity, daffodils
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:01:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26446771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/your_normal_everyday_coffee/pseuds/your_normal_everyday_coffee
Summary: Someplace on earth far away from you and I lives a large gathering of flowers, and, much like humans these flowers have their own dramas and stories. Such as the story of a narcissistic daffodil who learnt the definite skill of never wilting.





	The Vanity Of A Daffodil.

Once upon a time, in a field many miles away from you and I, lived a small community.

This community was slightly different to what you might expect for they were very unlike us. The peculiar thing about them was that they were a neighbourhood of flowers.

Now, for many years these blossoms thrived in harmony. With them living so far away from humanity they were untouched, they bloomed in the spring and died in the winter like all flowers do, however, there was one that was different. A daffodil, who had learnt the undeniable skill of being able to bloom all throughout the winter as well as the other three seasons.

Over the years the daffodil grew vain, with her never withering ability she grew strong and vibrant, the other flowers were at first jealous of her beauty, but when they saw what she was changing into they soon began to isolate themselves from the cold, narcissistic flower.

Many springs later when she was flourishing through yet another winter, she turned to her pettily friends and cried

‘How doth it feel to be so brown and bland during such excellent weather?’

The flowers, being used to her snide remarks simply ignored her and continued to talk among themselves. Unsatisfied with their response the daffodil moved closer, this time she fiddled around with her healthy, green leaves and bright yellow petals, until she was satisfied that she looked her best and added

‘The bees simply love me; my pollen is the finest in the whole field and better yet: it never does run out.’

This time, the tallest flower in the field; the sunflower, turned to the conceited blossom and replied

‘The bees may love your pollen; however, they do not love you. I have had the pleasure to have overheard the queen herself say that you are “The most arrogant, self-absorbed, haughty, boastfully vain flower she ever had the misfortune to behold.”

‘Oh, but she has beheld me has she not? I suppose she has not seen the camellia that mopes below the oak tree for she is not as colourful as me, nor the daisy that weeps all day for she is not as grand as myself, and definitely not the tulip that breaks into fits of sadness every autumn when her already hideous petals turn old and grotesque.’

‘It is true that the camellia does in fact mope and cry for she lacks the vibrancy that a daffodil has; however, why should a purely white flower need to be yellow? Besides, such as colour is overrated, we have at least seven other flowers that share the same colour as you and I in this field alone.

It is also true that the daisy weeps for she is not as grand as you nevertheless; why is it necessary for a flower to be large and bulky? You can do much more with small flowers than you can do with our size, for example you can make the most wonderful of necklaces.

As for the tulip; it has already been settled that her petals are much silkier than ours and the insects do indeed enjoy slumbering in them during the harshness of the winters.’ she responded coolly.

At this the vain flower swiftly turned away and glided off to her dark green patch at the edge of the forest which overlooked the surrounding lake.

‘She thinks she's a queen that one does,’ said the buttercup to the group

‘One day her vanity shall get the better of her and we will be there to laugh as she suffers.’ interjected the rose, who still had not gotten over being replaced by the daffodil as the most attractive flower in the field.

‘But she shall live much longer than us, for she does not have the capability of dying like we do and it may be many years before she is shown up.’ Cried the begonia.

‘Do not fret, we shall definitely live to see the day. It will be such a surprise to her when she realises that just because she does not grow old it does not mean she is the most beautiful narcissus in the world. It may be so much of a shock to her she might even stop photosynthesising and leave us in peace to our thoughts and beauty.’ Observed the purple iris gleefully.

The gathering of flowers waited many years for that day to come, it wasn’t until nearly seven years later anything actually happened. It was a warm summers day when a house was suddenly erected at the bottom of their field. This came as a surprise to them all as they were so certain they had hidden themselves so well from the disturbances of humanity, that they would never encounter a human again.

It was on the fifth day after their arrival that the daffodil came to the group.

‘Oh, you should see how charming they are! I sit beside their house every night for they are such a wonderful family. There are two small little darlings alongside a wonderful husband and wife, one might even say the wife is as beautiful as I, however they would be mistaken.’ She said, laughing at her own wit.

Again, the flowers being used to her shenanigans ignored her. Like before, she adjusted her leaves and straightened her petals then approached them once more.

‘Did you hear me? I was saying how much of a wonderful household they are. Hello? I’m talking to you!’ At this she began to prod them, still getting no reaction the daffodil began to get riled up and shouted out.

‘Do not ignore me! I am much superior to you; you do not have a right to take no notice of me!’

Yet they continued to disregard her, talking amongst themselves about some drama with the butterflies as if the daffodil was not there. After several minutes of poking, elbowing and jabbing she gave up.

‘I can see my company is not wanted; you savages are not interested in beauty and intellect, that much is clear to me. Return to your unsophisticated conversation. See if I care! I am off to where I am wanted. Goodbye!’ At this she took flight down the hill, rushing past the bees and the ants going about their day and sprinting over rocks and small dirt mounds until she came to a sudden halt, outside the newly built house where she planted herself down in front of the door.

The sudden turn of events caught the eye of all the surrounding inhabitants of the field, even the flowers stopped their discussion and stared in anticipation for what was about to happen. They all took wagers; the rose said she would be crushed within an instant, however, the purple iris said she would be plucked from the ground only to live the most boring life in a plant pot, the sunflower begged to differ and said she suspected that the daffodil would simply be ignored as the other flowers had been.

After an hour or so the husband returned home, he carried 2 pails of milk in his hands and was sweating heavily from his brow. It wasn’t until he got within 10 feet or so of his house, he noticed a bright yellow flower standing magnificently in the grass. He was rather confused, considering he was sure it hadn’t been there when he left in the morning, nonetheless he thought it would make an excellent gift for his wife and he planned to pick it up once he had put away the milk he was carrying.

Several minutes later he returned to the patch of grass with a large brown pot filled with dirt. But alas, in a moment of carelessness as he reached down his fingers slipped and the container fell to the ground, squashing the vain daffodil with it.

He hastily picked up the planter but it was too late, the flower was flattened to the ground. It’s petals were brown and mushy, its leaves were bent and ripped and its pollen spilt.

The flowers caught each caught their breaths at the sight before them, the bees turned away in horror, the butterflies fled. Yet despite the monstrosity they had just witnessed nobody for a split second felt even a twinge of mourning or loss.

The man sighed at what he’d done and went off to go look for a new blossom. Shortly after he discovered a fine young orchid growing next to a small boulder nearby, he planted it in the pot and returned home happy he could find something to replace the old flower.

The flowers did not weep for their fallen sister, and the bees did not feel any remorse for their best source of pollen. In fact, it did not take the field long to forget about her.

After all, who wants to remember someone as a vain as that daffodil who once lived on the dark patch on top of a hill?


End file.
